


Feed Me And Tell Me I'm Pretty

by Wireslide



Series: Camera Ready [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 'Nick' is James Griffin, Camboy!Lance, Cum Inflation, Feeding Kink, In this AU there are no STIs, M/M, Multi, Other, Shiro also has a Lance kink, Shiro still has his disorder, close up anal camming, cum dump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 13:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16833466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wireslide/pseuds/Wireslide
Summary: Lance's cam channel has a special request fill, and Hunk lends a hand. Shiro practices unsafe self-care and realizes he knows Lance's 'baby.'





	Feed Me And Tell Me I'm Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr as 'Camera Two'
> 
> If you're reading my series', you're noticing that my first attempts at titles are uninspired. Titles are hard.

He checked the clock on his phone as he hurried up the driveway, waving back to a neighbor who called his name. “Sorry H, important teleconference, can’t talk bye!” He rationalized it as only slightly more than a white lie–he was in a hurry to get to his computer. He didn’t stop to lock the door behind himself, skidding into bed on his stomach with his tablet opening the cam site to the blue-eyed man’s feed just as he was straightening the coverlet on the huge bed. He seemed a little out of breath, but his smile was just as bright and delighted as Shiro remembered.

“–last time, you guys were all really sweet about making sure he wasn’t too uncomfortable, and today was kind of,” his knees wobbled; he caught himself on the edge of the bed and grinned when the chat flooded with concern. “I’m okay, guys. I am so very okay. Just tired and a little sore. Overstimmed. My baby said he’s willing to come feed me on camera, so Raider, you’re gonna get that request you’ve been waiting so patiently for.” He grinned a little wider, body shuddering, and Shiro realized the sound he was hearing was not Lance’s computer fan.

It took him three tries to type his question coherently into the chatbox before he hit enter.

Lance leaned in to squint at the chat. Shiro could see his eyes straining to focus. “Oh, you came in late tonight, huh, Starlight?” Lance’s unfocused leer sent a bolt of electricity straight through Shiro’s groin. “Better late than not at all, yeah? Hm. Yeah, it’s a vibrating plug. My baby got it for me for our anniversary.” He reached one hand back, and Shiro heard a faint wet sound that made him swallow hard.

Those deep blue eyes fluttered heavily, and Lance’s unabashed, throaty moan made Shiro reach for a pillow to put under his stomach. “Oh, fuck, I almost came again.” Lance lifted his head, his grin entirely blissed out. The blue of his eyes was barely visible around the wide, blown pits of his pupils. “You guys would totally tell my baby on me, wouldn’t you? He says I can’t get off again until I get some non-come protein in me.” He raised his head a little sluggishly when the door behind him opened.

He almost managed to stand up straight without wobbling. The camera picked up the blurred edges of the vibrating plug, and the wan monitor light highlighted every twitch of toned muscle surrounding it. “Hey, baby,” something about Lance’s voice had shifted, dragging not just lust but a bright thread of delighted adoration through the room.

It was met with a fond but exasperated huff, and a large, soft-looking man with skin much darker than Lance’s hurried in to set a tray of food on the covers of the bed. “Lance,” Shiro bolted half-upright, he knew that voice, he’d heard it earlier in the day, had Lance said something about an anniversary? “Babe, c'mon. You could barely stand when you got home, the guys will understand if you at least sit on the bed.”

As the speaker came further into the room, Shiro recognized the muscular arms he often saw smeared in black grease, the short-trimmed nails on the calloused hands that helped Lance up onto the bed–halfway there, the plug shifted, and Lance cried out, clinging to the broad shoulders as he splashed both of their stomachs with a thin stream of come. He shuddered and gasped against the dark skin as his husband simply scooped him up the rest of the way and lay him down against the mound of pillows.

Only then did the big man turn, giving the viewers a full shot of the paper plate mask he wore. “Hey guys, uh. It’s me, Chef. Mine and Lance’s anniversary is today, and while we have our own private celebrations that we’re going to do tomorrow–because my boss can’t read a calendar–he wanted to give you all something nice to hold you over until Friday. Uh, Raider, right? You had the very specific food request. Man, I gotta say, you are after my heart here. It took me days to find a good recipe that sticks with his diet and wouldn’t disappoint you.”

He picked up a cloth napkin from the folded pile on the tray–Shiro counted at least three–and gently wiped Lance’s belly clean. Dazed blue eyes fixed on the paper plate mask, and Lance offered up a sweet smile. “Trouble?” The leggy man asked dazedly.

“Yeah,” Shiro wasn’t expecting the hard tone from that gentle giant, and shifted his hips against the sheets, “I told you, no more getting off until you eat some solid food, and what did you do?”

“Came,” it was still slurred, vague, and Shiro could see the twitch of the unrepentant smile Lance couldn’t quite prevent.

He caught himself grinning back as if the expression was aimed at him, muttering a delighted insult. He shifted his hips against the sheets again, typing an offer to get the hypersensitive Lance into even more trouble in the chatbox and deleting it before he hit enter.

“Lance started his day,” ‘Chef’ informed the chat as he propped the smaller man up higher on the pillows, “waking me up with a reverse cowgirl. He barely let me catch my breath after coming once before he started moving again. He was so wound up I had to give him his present right away just to get him off me so I could make breakfast.” Though the mask hid his face, his fond grin was clear in his voice. He petted Lance’s sweaty hair back from his face. The leggy man was trembling again, incoherent little sounds dragging from his throat with every twitch of overstimulated muscle.

“So, twice this morning,” 'Chef’ continued on calmly, reaching for the tray to show the very full plate to the camera before he set it down beside Lance and held a laden fork to his lips, “then he had to go grocery shopping, which as I was told involved a threesome with a manager and a stock boy in the manager’s office, and they each gave him one.” He held up four fingers with his free hand as he dipped a piece of something in butter to feed Lance next.

“After the grocery store, he went to the bakery, where our friend gave him the order for our cakes and a less than sanitary roll against the back wall of the building. He does love the scratches he gets from brick walls in back alleys, don’t you, babe?” When Lance grinned at him and opened his mouth to respond, he shoved the forkful of food between those smirking lips, leaving a bit of the melted butter to slide down the prone man’s chin.

Shiro saw the chat move rapidly, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the gleam on Lance’s chin as he chewed. Some part of his brain noted that this feed was going to give him all sorts of new kinks as he ground his hips into the bed. Three weeks of daily dump feeds peppered with other requests, and Shiro had yet to see anything that Lance couldn’t make sexy.

'Chef’ had continued talking while he’d fixated. “–so, six. Then our dropout friend from high school–he’s the knife guy with the purple eyes that Lance ran into a few weeks ago?–he knew today was special and gave him what, babe, three?” He lifted a glass of clear juice, helping Lance drink before he offered a hoarse affirmative. “So, nine. Nick texted me earlier to tell me that his present to me was to avoid Lance this weekend, and I do appreciate that Nick, if you’re watching. I don’t know everybody’s handle as well as Lance does.”

Lance, in contrast to Chef’s gratitude, pouted at the camera and spread his legs to show off the plug again. The shift in angle made him gasp, almost choking on the next bite. He moaned and squirmed when 'Chef’ reached over to easily push his legs closed. Shiro could see Lance’s cock twitch behind the curve of 'Chef’s’ forearm.

“No.” 'Chef’ told him firmly, and the hard edge to a voice Shiro knew to be habitually soft and gentle brought Shiro’s hips down against the bed again. He decided that he could totally watch whole feeds of the engineer talking mean to the camera. “He texts me, you know, after each encounter, to let me know he’s safe and where his count is. I know a handful of you were here–FurPrincess, I know you were already a regular the day Lance landed himself in the hospital.”

Shiro sat up partway, alarmed. Lance had hurt himself for the feed? Lance had been hospitalized? The very thought made him want to fight someone. He saved the link NickCreature dropped into the chat to watch later.

“He promised to keep me updated after that, and I know sometimes if he needs an extra protein shake he’ll text Nick, and the squad will help. But today he wanted to match his record, without the hospital visit.” 'Chef’ fed him another bite, catching a bit of stray mashed potato and smearing it across Lance’s face. “He admitted to being a little shaky after our purple-eyed friend, but he said he was fine. Met up with one of Nick’s squad–big guy, broad shoulders, solid muscle–”

“Dick the size of a fire hose,” Lance cut in with a giggle, only to have more food shoved into his mouth to quiet him. He sighed, eyelids fluttering as he chewed. He held up a finger to 'Chef’ though, and the big man waited for him to chew and swallow, cutting up the rest of the food on the plate while he waited. “He’s not usually down for skinny guys like me, but I told him that my first two were my baby, and if he went hard enough he could get his stuff to mix with yours.” His smile was as sweet as it was wicked. “He went twice just to be sure.”

Shiro’s world went white. It took a minute for the static to clear from his vision, and the ringing in his ears to fade. Lance had already eaten several more bites, and Shiro resigned himself to taking the coverlet to the dry cleaners later. He peeled off his sticky boxer briefs and used them to clean up as much of the mess as he could.

'Chef’ shifted back to let the camera get a good look at Lance’s prone form. He pet the skinny man’s belly gently, showing off the curve where the food was settling. He hand drifted lower, and his head tilted slightly to one side. Shiro noted a slight curve of Lance’s lower abdomen, did some quick mental math, and whispered a quick, indistinct plea to the big man on screen. Those dark fingers pressed lightly on the top of the second swell, and Shiro felt his lungs stop as Lance cried out and thrashed, legs falling open again. The thin monitor light caught on a trickle of white slipping out from around the plug. 'Chef’ scooped it up with his fingers and brought the sticky digits to Lance’s mouth, pushing it in on top of the food.

When he pulled that hand back, the other was ready with the last forkful, barely giving Lance the opportunity to gasp before his mouth was full again. Shiro’s gaze shifted at a warning beep; the light on his wristband was yellow instead of green. His laugh was a little shaky. This feed was going to give him a seizure if he couldn’t exercise a little self control over his reactions to the leggy Cuban on the screen.

Who had started the most distracting rhythm of breathless moans, whines, and choked swearing in the few seconds Shiro had looked away. He looked back at the tablet to see 'Chef’ massaging both of the small bulges in Lance’s stomach and watching with a tipped head while his husband’s heels skidded against the covers. He slid the hand on Lance’s abdomen lower, curling heavy fingers around the base of the plug. Lance jerked upward with a keen as the vibration shut off.

The big man waited patiently until those lust-blown blue eyes focused on him again. “Ready?” He asked quietly, and the way his voice had slid roughly downward made Shiro shudder. Lance’s response was a series of half-formed words and some enthusiastic nodding. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you empty so you have room for dessert.” He settled his other hand on Lance’s abdomen and twisted the plug as he pulled it out.

Lance’s hoarse shriek set Shiro’s nerves on fire, and he found himself rocking in to the bed again. It turned into a squirm as the darker man gently pushed on Lance’s abdomen, effectively milking a torrent of come from the skinny man. It splashed against the bedspread–some part of him noted the fluid resistance with interest–and pooled underneath Lance’s spread ass. 'Chef’ grabbed a phone, and the feed split, giving the audience a steady shot from above of the pooling fluid, the trim, flexing thighs, and Lance’s twitching cock. “You look really good like this, babe,” the big man murmured roughly, “let it all out.”

Lance whined, bit his lip, half-lifted his head. He dropped it back again and shook it against the pillows. “More,” he whined, the mic on the phone barely picking up his voice, “more, give–more. More to let out. Give. Want.”

“Not tonight, baby.” That tone was so patient, even when thick with lust. His voiceless laugh danced over Shiro’s nerves through the feed. Lance’s whine almost drowned it out entirely.

 _“Fuck me…”_ The Cuban’s voice slid upwards in a needy plea that cut off with a choked gasp as 'Chef’ plunged two fingers into his hypersensitive ass and spread them. He moved the camera, turning on the flash to show the audience the spasming muscles beyond his reach, deep inside Lance.

Shiro felt his mouth watering, discovered that he had leaned in closer to the tablet and dropped his jaw slightly. The urge to bury his face against Lance’s twitching, leaking hole was so overwhelming that the back of his tongue almost tasted salty already. He missed the second beep from his wristband, and the sound of the front door opening.

“H-harder,” Lance panted, heels scrabbling on the covers. He keened when 'Chef’s’ hand pushed down harder on his abdomen, prompting another splash of ejaculate. Long fingers came up, buried knuckles between sharp white teeth to muffled a series of whining pleas. The big man slid in a third finger, deepening the spread as the pool of come beneath Lance’s ass grew. The phone camera lifted smoothly as Lance’s cries grew more frantic, and Shiro bit his lip at the slow pan over the Cuban’s tightening balls, the untouched shaft–Shiro could see the scratches from the back alley of the bakery, and his tongue twitched–and the weak spurts of thin come draping over Lance’s now nearly flat abdomen.

“You need to set your emergency alert to text Matt instead of me.” Adam’s voice from the doorway of the bedroom was sharp, but amused.

Shiro lifted a finger, soaking in the blissed out look on Lance’s face, the slow pan back down to his spread ass, the raspy, wrecked gasps filtering over the speakers. He patted the bed beside himself. “Wanna watch him eat dessert while we wait?”


End file.
